When I was about eleven years old, my mother and I were cleaning out a small outbuilding we all called The Pack House. This was a single-car garage-sized structure on the property next to the house in which my mother grew up. The Pack House may have been a smokehouse....

Dear Reader: Here is my neat-o new website, constructed by my friend, that very able webmonkey*, Cyndi Craven. Yes, yes, I know there of those of you who are pining for the simplicity of yesteryear and my old website, its orange and green countenance, its Georgia...

When I was a kid I was given a stuffed animal, a chimp. I named him Chimpy. (I know the correct term for such a thing is “plush toy,” but Chimpy wasn’t so plush.) Chimpy was given to me by my beagle, Pooh, who came trotting into the backyard from the...